


Rated R

by cherrystreet



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Christmas, Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Sex Tape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 13:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7106758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrystreet/pseuds/cherrystreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis gifts Harry with a surprise sex tape, and it accidentally makes its way into Harry's family Christmas party. Ridiculousness ensues.</p><p>---</p><p>
  <a href="http://cherrystreet.tumblr.com/post/145479177182/title-rated-r-author-cherrystreet-pairing">Tumblr</a>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rated R

**Author's Note:**

> Very loosely inspired by the episode of HIMYM where Robin brings Lily an extremely inappropriate bridal shower gift in front of the entire family.

It all starts with an offhand comment made by Harry in passing over breakfast one morning.

“I miss you a lot when I’m gone,” he admits while stirring cream into his coffee.

“Aww,” Louis says sarcastically. “Poor baby gets to travel the country and live luxuriously while I’m stuck at home, working my life away.”

“Hey.” He pouts. “It’s not like I  _ choose _ to leave. I  _ have _ to. It’s work, Lou. I barely get to see anything outside of conference rooms and hotels.”

“You big, fat liar. You go golfing  _ all _ the time when you travel.”

“That’s where I pitch ideas to the CEO’s! Everyone does that!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies with the wave of his hand. “Just had to go ahead and get that huge promotion, hot shot.”

He smirks, wrapping his hands around his coffee mug, warming them up. “I had to, didn’t I?”

“ _ Had _ to wow the president of the company, make him fall in love with you just like everyone else.” He scoops some cereal onto his spoon. “Everyone except me.”

“Unfortunate we live together, then.”

“Mmm. Sucks.”

Harry rips off a piece of his bagel. “I’m serious, though. I miss you when I’m gone. It’s alright when they send me off for two or three days, but two  _ weeks _ ?” He puts the bite into his mouth. “It’s a long time,” he says, mouth full.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Hope you have better manners in front of the important people than you do in front of me.”

“I try,” he says, food falling out of his mouth.

He rolls his eyes again. “Two weeks will go by quickly. It’s not that bad. Especially because they give you so much vacation time to make up for it.”

Harry nods. “That’s true. Just…” He shrugs. “Miss waking up next to you.”

Louis gags. “You are a  _ grown _ man, Styles. Get it together.”

He laughs. “I’ll keep that in mind when you call me on day ten, whining and bitching that I’m still gone.”

“I will  _ not _ do that.” Louis knows it’s a lie before the words are even out of his mouth.

Harry clearly knows, too, based on the smug look he gives. “Whatever you say, baby.”

Louis sighs. “So. December 27th is when you leave?”

He nods. “I’ll be gone for New Year’s.”

“It’s alright, there’s not much you can do, right?”

“Not really.”

“I’ll just find someone else to kiss at midnight.”

“I absolutely hate you.” He rips off another piece of bagel, tossing it into his mouth. “I’m not gonna miss you when I’m gone, I take it back.”

“You’re full of shit. You’re gonna miss my dazzling personality and my face and my ass. The holy trinity.”

Harry snorts. “ _ Definitely _ miss your ass when I’m gone. That goes without saying.” He sighs. “Can you come with me?”

“Oh, sure, let me drop everything to hang with you for 14 days. I’m sure that would go over well with everyone.”

“But  _ Lou, _ ” he whines. “I swear, I lose a day off of my life for each day that passes that I don’t get to see you naked.”

Louis bursts out laughing and he leans across the table to flick Harry on the forehead.

And just like that, the idea is formed.  
  


* * *

  
It’s December 23rd and Harry is out doing some last minute Christmas shopping. Louis knows this is his only chance to bring his idea to life and there’s no time for error.

He’s laying on their bed, completely naked, and though he’s never been shy when it comes to nudity, he’s  _ extremely _ uncomfortable, freezing, and nervous he won’t be able to pull this off - literally - before Harry comes home.

He clears his throat and looks directly at the camera lens on his phone, perched at the exact right angle on the bureau across the room. “So, um, you said you miss my nakedness when you’re gone.” He wrings his hands together, wondering when the fuck he turned into such an awkward human being, when he became so nervous to show off his body. And to  _ Harry, _ Jesus. “I’m going to try to help remedy that.” He swallows. “This is for you to watch whenever you're away and missing me.”

He takes a deep breath and gets a hand around himself, partially hard in premeditated anticipation, and works over his cock the way he knows he’ll get there the quickest. It feels unbearably unsexy, though, almost clinical like, and he has no idea how to fix it and make it seem more natural.

It’s no secret that Harry loves watching Louis get himself off. He becomes nearly incoherent when Louis fucks himself up into his own fist, Harry’s eyes glassy, his breathing rapid, murmuring how hot he is, and it’s Harry’s reactions that end up turning Louis on. It never takes very long before Harry knocks Louis’ hand out of the way and gets his own grip around him, making Louis whimper and unable to do anything but just lay back and take it.

And that’s what Louis thinks about as he rocks up into his hand, biting down on his bottom lip.

He furrows his brow and squeezes his cock harder, trying to pretend that it’s just him and Harry, that the phone isn’t recording him, that his French bulldog isn’t barking his head off from the other room.

“Porkchop! Shut up!” he yells out, hand stilling on his cock. He lays down flat on the mattress and mumbles out, “Still can’t believe you named our dog Porkchop.”

Louis inhales and exhales sharply, refocusing. He reaches over on the nightstand and grabs the lube, squirting a liberal amount into his hand, and continues. The added slickness helps, and he starts getting harder.

He closes his eyes and keeps thinking about the way Harry feels when his hands are all over him, the way his gaze never seems to waver from Louis’ face, the way he fucks Louis so Goddamn perfectly, it’s almost unfair.

Normally, when he’s getting himself off, alone, he doesn’t moan or whine or make much noise at all. But this is a  _ gift _ for his clingy, absurd, undeniably gorgeous boyfriend _ , _ and even though Harry will know it’s embellished, he knows he has to put on a show. He  _ wants _ to.

He arches his back and drags his finger over the head, whimpering. He moans a little louder than necessary, but Christ, he’s actually turning himself on even more. He keeps working his hand over himself steadily and evenly, still thinking the way Harry looks and moves when he fucks into him, and he can’t help it when he groans out Harry’s name.

He’s hot, too hot, and kicks the blankets out of the way, skin overheated. He slaps his hand down on the mattress, feeling around for the bottle of lube, and when he locates it, he covers his left hand in  _ way _ too much, immediately reaching down to slide one finger inside of him.

It’s not the relief he wants, and it’s not as good as when Harry does it; he can’t reach all the angles he wants and his shoulders get sore extremely quickly. But it’s enough for now. He works himself up to two fingers, then three, and he’s just barely able to graze along his prostate. The white hot heat in the pit of his belly grows, and he moves his fingers faster.

He’s close, so close, whimpering out Harry’s name, and he just barely registers the sound of the front door slamming shut. Louis pauses, breathing heavily, and listens.

Footsteps start making their way up the stairs and he panics. Harry absolutely  _ cannot _ know what he’s doing, can’t see that he’s filming. It’ll ruin the entire thing. He sits up, pulling his fingers out and wincing, ready to jump up and dive into the bathroom, but before he can give it another thought, Harry’s opening the bedroom door, arms filled with shopping bags.

When he sees Louis, his jaw drops, the bags falling to the floor.

“What’re you…” Harry swallows audibly. “Baby. What are you doing.”

Louis tries to keep his gaze away from the phone, still recording. If he doesn’t look at it, maybe Harry won’t look, either, won’t notice it’s propped up and filming one of the most embarrassing moments of his entire life.

He tries to keep his voice as even as he can when he says, “I’m getting off, what does it fucking look like I’m doing?”

“Why?”

He stares at Harry like he’s the biggest idiot on the planet. “To pass the time. Jesus, I don’t know, Harry, why do you  _ think _ I’d be getting off?”

Harry shakes his head. “I’m gonna.”

“You’re gonna?”

“Yeah.” He kicks off his shoes comically fast and makes his way to the bed, fire in his eyes, and he’s straddling Louis, kissing him roughly, before Louis can process a single thing that’s happening.

The heat behind the kiss is scorching, Harry hips already shifting aimlessly above him, and when he breaks their contact to mouth at Louis’ jaw, Louis grits out, “You’d think after three years together, you’d be able to control yourself around me a little more.”

“You’d think.” He reaches down to circle his grip around Louis’ cock, still hard, not having had flagged in his moment of panic, and he groans when Harry squeezes the exact way Louis loves best, the bastard.

“Harry, I’ve.” He pauses to take a deep breath. “I’ve kind of been going at this for a while, and if you keep doing  _ that, _ this is going to be all over.”

Harry presses his forehead to Louis’. “How long?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, like, half an hour? 45 minutes? I wasn’t really staring at the clock, Christ.”

“Think you can hold on long enough for me to fuck you?”

He grips at the sheets, staring up at Harry. “Yeah, just, can we move? Turn sideways?”

Harry makes a confused face. “As in, me fuck you laying down behind you? Like spooning?”

Louis shakes his head. “No. Want to be able to see both of us on the.” He swallows the word  _ camera _ , trying to backtrack. “In the mirror. Want to be able to see both of us in the mirror. If you fuck me so the headboard is to my right, I’ll be able to see us in the mirror.”

He knows he’s rambling and repeating himself too much for it to sound natural, and Harry looks perplexed, but he doesn’t make it a full three seconds later before he’s bending down to kiss Louis again, movements fervent. “That’s hot. Yeah, let’s do that.”

Thank God he’s so stupid. This is turning out  _ much _ better than Louis had originally planned.

“Don’t need to finger me, though,” he says, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck, letting him drag him across the bed and drop him onto the other side. He briefly looks over and sees that they’re in a  _ much _ better position for the accidental sex tape. Perfect. “I got up to three fingers before you so rudely interrupted me.”

Harry makes a sound that sounds like he’s being strangled. “Gonna let me do it, anyway?”

Louis grabs the bottle of lube and shoves it in Harry’s face. “Have at it, if you must.”

He takes it from Louis, movements unsteady, and he squeezes the lube onto his fingers, rubbing it together. He doesn’t warn Louis before he slides the first finger in, followed by a second moments later, and it already feels so much better than when did it himself. He lets out a happy sigh, letting Harry work him over steadily, and when he brushes over his prostate  _ just _ right, he moans the way he knows turns Harry on best.

“Baby, the way you sound, do you fucking get what you do to me? All the Goddamn time?”

Louis  _ does _ know, so he clenches down on Harry’s fingers, moaning again. “Fuck me,” he demands, way too breathlessly, way too loudly. He needs to make sure the phone is picking up their conversation; he knows what dirty talk does to Harry.

Harry doesn’t seem to notice that Louis’ speaking about three octaves higher than usual. “Yeah, gonna fuck you,” he says, pulling his fingers out and squeezing at Louis’ sides, pupils blown. “So sexy, I can’t even stand it.” He swallows. “I’m in love with you.”

He whines at that, basking under Harry’s attention, closing his eyes. The thing is,  _ Harry _ doesn’t know he’s being recorded. None of this is for show. This is all just  _ him, _ loving Louis, wanting Louis. Louis reaches up and twists his fingers into Harry’s hair, can’t do anything but murmur back, “Love you so much.”

Harry pulls his shirt, jeans, and briefs off at lightning speed, own cock hard and swollen, nearly red at the tip. He quickly slicks himself up with lube, not bothering to put on a condom, and lines himself up with Louis. He grips Louis at his thighs, spreading them apart, and he starts to push in, choking out a moan once he’s fully inside.

“Lou, feel so good, baby. Always feel so fucking good.”

Louis arches his back, letting Harry get his hands underneath him to squeeze at his ass. “You’re big.”

Harry smirks. “Like you’ve never taken it before.” He starts moving, thrusts punching but steady and even, leaving Louis breathless.  _ That _ part is not for show.

“Taken it so many times,” he whimpers out. “And it always feels amazing. You know how to.” He pauses to catch his breath, reaching down to get his fist around his cock, which feels as though it’s been hard and aching for a small eternity. “You know how to fuck me the way I need it.”

Harry nearly growls at that, letting go of Louis’ thighs in favor of bracketing his head with his hands. “‘course I do.” He starts  _ really _ giving it to Louis, Louis’ moans outrageous. “Give you whatever you want, whatever you need.” He pushes in as far as he can go and dips down to kiss Louis, all tongue and too much teeth. “Can’t help myself, just wanna give you everything.”

Louis lifts his hips up, goading Harry into keep moving. He does. “H, I’m already so close. I’ve been trying to get off for the past hour,  _ Christ. _ ” He hisses as Harry grazes against his prostate. “Thinking about you while I was doing it.”

“Thinking about what, specifically?” he asks, breathing choppy.

“How fucking thick you are and how you hold me down and  _ ah. _ How you act whenever you get the chance to put it in me bare.”

Harry nods, cheeks pink. “Nothing’s ever felt as good as me fucking you bare. Like right now. Christ, Louis, ‘m so close.”

Louis’ stomach muscles tighten, whole body riddled with the need to come. “Gonna come, Harry, just…”

Harry seems to get it, because he changes his angle to the way he knows gets Louis there, and it works nearly instantly. Louis clamps his legs so tightly around Harry, he almost stops thrusting, and the cry he lets out is guttural. Harry follows suit moments later, coming deep inside of Louis, mumbling words that sound like a version of Louis’ name, but he can’t be sure. Not when his head is so dizzy.

Harry pulls out slowly, peppering Louis’ face with kisses the entire time, and Louis can already start to feel the come drip out of him. He makes a face. “Always forget how gross this is.”

He shakes his head. “Definitely not gross. Fucking hot.”

“You’re like a 12-year-old watching porn for the first time.”

“Don’t need to watch porn now that I have you.”

“Romantic.”

Harry smirks. “Can you get on your hands and knees?”

Normally, Louis would tell him to fuck off. He’s tired, he’s sore, and he doesn’t want Harry to touch him. But. The damn camera. He wants to make this is as hot as possible, and it’s working. “Yeah.” He twists slowly, positioning himself at an angle, and Harry’s hands are on him immediately, pushing two fingers inside.

“Love when I can feel it inside of you still.”

“You’re fucking sick.” He pushes back into the feeling, anyway.

Harry works his fingers in and out long enough for Louis to start to get hard again. He doesn’t really want to go for round two, but it’s impossible to not get hard when Harry’s hands are rubbing relentlessly over his overstimulated prostate, telling Louis how good he looks with his come leaking out of him and down onto Harry’s wrist.

It gets to be too much, and Harry can tell. He pulls his fingers out all the way and grips his ass cheeks instead, squeezing and spreading them apart. Louis lets himself collapse down onto his elbows. “You done staring, you pervert?” Louis asks.

“For tonight, yeah. I’m gonna take a shower. Come with me?”

“I will in a minute. You go.”

“Okay.” He kisses up Louis’ spine, breath hot against his skin. “I’m the luckiest.”

Louis blushes. “You probably are.” Harry smacks him hard on the ass before he climbs off the bed, and Louis watches as he walks from their bedroom into the bathroom. He waits for the sound of the water to turn on before he jumps off the bed and grabs the phone.

He pans the camera up and down his body, much less self conscious now, and gives it a moment to focus on his semi hard cock and the come dripping down the back of his thighs. Once he’s positive he has a visual recorded he knows Harry will most certainly approve of, he draws the camera back up to his face and whispers, “Well, that went better than expected.”

“Lou, come on,” Harry calls from the other room.

“Coming,” he yells back, winks at the camera, and ends the recording.  
  


* * *

  
Louis only cringes five times when he watches the video back the next morning, which is better than he expected. It’s weird, for lack of a better word, to watch himself get off and then get fucked by his boyfriend, but it’s also really  _ hot. _ He decides that he’s not going to edit it, though, and that he likes the rawness of it, and he’s sure Harry will appreciate it, too.

It’s hard to find time to put it onto a DVD, however. It’s his birthday and Harry has made it a habit to go  _ all _ out for Louis’ birthdays, even with it being on Christmas Eve, and Louis assumes that’s part of it. Harry obviously feels bad that Louis gets slighted due to the holiday, so it’s obvious he tries to make up for it with an endless stream of gifts and a morning blow job, followed by a breakfast in bed, complete with cake and ice cream.

It’s around noon and the video still isn’t on a disc yet. Louis is impatient and running out of time. They have to leave in a mere three hours to get to Harry’s parents house on time for Christmas Eve dinner and Louis doesn’t know how to say “Harry, get the fuck away from me so I can finish putting together our surprise porno” without actually saying  “Harry, get the fuck away from me so I can finish putting together our surprise porno.”

Eventually, he decides it’s best if he just lies to get Harry away from him long enough to put together the gift. “H, I’m tired. I’m gonna take a nap.”

“Oh. Okay, I’ll join you. I’m tired, too.”

Louis frowns. No, that won’t do. “Actually, I’m gonna finish wrapping some presents.” Which  _ technically _ isn’t a lie.

“And not nap?”

“No, I forgot I have some stuff to still take care of. I’ll be upstairs.”

“Want me to sit with you while you do it?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Want to hold my hand, too?”

Harry pouts. “I just want you to have a good birthday.”

“I know.” He kisses Harry on the cheek and grabs the wrapping paper from off of the kitchen table. “I promise, me being alone for half an hour isn’t going to wreck my birthday, you lunatic.”

“Fine. I’ll be down here, staring at the clock, twiddling my thumbs.”

Louis snorts. “I think we should see other people."

“ _ Finally. _ ”  
  


* * *

  
It only takes Louis about an hour to get the entire thing copied over onto a disc and wrapped in the ugliest, most festive wrapping paper that he’s ever seen, courtesy of Harry. There are tiny snowmen dancing across the paper, and Louis takes the time to draw a mustache on every single one of them.

He showers and gets ready, putting on the maroon v-neck sweater he knows Harry loves, and heads downstairs. He places the wrapped DVD on the table beside the platter of truffles that Harry spent hours making the day prior for his mom’s Christmas party. He looks up from his spot at the kitchen table when he sees Louis.

“Happy birthday!” he exclaims.

Louis laughs. “Oh my God, enough.”

He claps his hands together. “Alright, we’ve got about ten seconds to spare before we have to head to my mom’s.” He looks Louis up and down. “You look gorgeous. I love that sweater on you.”

He smirks. “I know.”

“You grab the truffles and I’ll grab the Yankee swap gifts and we’ll be ready to head out, unless you need anything else. It's your birthday. Do you need anything?”

Louis rolls his eyes, then pauses. “Wait, did we even get Yankee swap gifts?!”

“Yup. The complete collection of Pixar short films from me and a book of Disney stickers from you.”

He makes a face. “There are only two kids at this party and everyone else is above the legal drinking age. Why would any of these people want either of those items?”

“Because I forgot about getting gifts until this morning and ran to Walmart while you were still sleeping and those were the first things I saw that were under the $20 spending limit.”

“Oh. Well. In that case. Excellent choice.”

Harry laughs. “Thanks. Let’s go.”

Louis grabs the tray of truffles and hip checks Harry on the way out the door. “You look nice, too, by the way.”

He grabs his jacket along with the bag of gifts and turns off the lights. “I know,” he says, echoing Louis’ response.

“I take it back. You’re ugly.”

“Thanks, baby. I love you, too.”  
  


* * *

  
They make it to Anne’s house around six o’clock, both starving and excited to spend the night with Harry’s side of the family. Anne welcomes them in typical Mom fashion, hugging and smiling, telling them that they both look handsome. Louis takes a seat beside Gemma at the dining room table and Harry sits across from him, squeezing in next to Gemma’s sons, Max and Cam. Harry immediately starts going on about if they’re excited for Santa, and Cam nearly jumps out of his seat, clasping his hands together, riddled with energy.

They get through dinner without incident, passing plates and trays around, Robin filling up wine glasses in between courses, and Louis never fails to appreciate how Harry’s family feels like his own. Nothing feels forced; it’s like he was always meant to be a part of them, laughing and joking and blushing while they sing “Happy birthday” to him in front of his second cake of the day.

They’re not married - not yet, anyway - but they will be one day, and it’s so  _ nice _ that it’s not going to take a piece of paper for him to be welcomed, to feel like he's at home.

And this is what he tells Harry after all the dessert plates have been cleared up,  _ It’s a Wonderful Life _ playing in the background, leaning against the kitchen counter and holding his fourth glass of white wine, a little drunk and a lot happy.

Harry smiles, dimple poking out, and he kisses the top of Louis’ head. “They genuinely love you. A lot. It’s annoying, really.”

“ _ You’re _ annoying, really.”

“Mature.”

He leans into Harry, letting Harry wrap an arm around him, and they stand wrapped up like that until Max is in front of them, yanking on the hem of Harry’s sweater.

“Uncle Harry,” he whines. “It’s time for the Yankee swap!”

“Is it? Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“Positive?”

“ _ Yes! _ ”

“Well, if you’re  _ sure. _ ”

“I am!”

“Alright, Lou, you heard the man, it’s time for the Yankee swap, let’s go.”

They follow Max into the living room and sit down next to him and Cam on the couch, the rest of the family settling in, too.

Harry’s aunt walks around the room, holding a hat with 19 small pieces of folded paper inside it. “Does everyone remember the rules?”

“Yes,” Cam says. Then, he frowns. “Wait. No.”

She smiles, holding out the hat for him. “Take a piece of paper from the hat. On each piece of paper, there will be a number. The person with number one picks a present from the pile first, and they get to open the gift. The person with number two picks another present from the pile. If they decide they like their present after they open it, they can keep it, or if they like the first present better, they can trade. So on and so forth.”

“What if someone takes my gift in the trade?”

“Then you get  _ their _ present, or you can pick another one from the pile.”

Cam scrunches up his face. “Wait. That isn’t fair for the person with number one. They don’t get the chance to trade.”

Harry taps Cam on the leg. “The person with number one gets to go again at the end. Number one is the  _ best _ number.”

“Oh. Okay.” Cam peers into the hat. “Can I have number one?”

Harry laughs and takes the hat from his aunt. “Good try. Reach in and pick one.  _ Without _ looking.”

Cam pouts. “Fine.” He pulls a piece of paper out. “Number seven. That’s not good, is it?”

“That’s  _ great, _ ” Louis says, chiming in, lying through his teeth. Cam can clearly tell based on the face he makes. “Hey, at least you’re not number two. That’s the worst number. They only get one person to trade with.”

Cam, apparently satisfied with that answer, leans back against the couch cushions and waits patiently - an impressive feat for a five-year-old - for the game to begin.

They go around the room, everyone pulling out a different number, and Louis groans when he draws the number four. “This sucks,” he says. “Absolutely horrendous.”

“Could be worse,” Harry says, smirking. “Could have gotten number two. Okay, Gemma, you’re up.”

And as if on cue, Gemma draws the piece of paper with number two printed on it. “Okay, you can go to hell,” she says to Harry.

Harry laughs before drawing his own number. “19. Now  _ that _ I’m okay with.”

They keep drawing until just Max is left. He pulls the last number out. “Hey! I got number one!”

“Awesome!” Louis exclaims, then leans in close to Max and whispers, “You should totally go for the big present. The one with the Santa wrapping paper. I bet it’s a good one.”

Max nods very seriously. “Okay. I’ll go get it.” He gets up from his spot on the couch and returns with the gift that’s nearly bigger than him and tears it apart in seconds. He looks up at Louis, rage in his eyes, once the package is revealed. “Uncle Louis! It’s a Swiffer!”

Louis’ trying  _ so _ hard not to laugh, but it’s impossible. “I’m sorry, Max. I had no idea there was a mop in there.”

“But I don’t want a mop!”

“Maybe someone will trade you for it.”

He looks down at his lap. “This is just terrible.”

Harry can’t hold back his laughter, either. “Max, watch Mom open her gift. She might have something she’ll want to trade you for.”

Gemma reveals a set of nail polish. She looks at her son, eyebrows raised. “I’ll let you choose, Max.”

“Oh, jeez.” He scrunches up his face. “Will you make fun of me if I pick the nail polish?”

She smiles. “Absolutely not.”

“‘kay. Let’s trade.”

Harry’s grandmother goes next, unwrapping a set of gardening gloves, which she keeps, and then it’s Louis’ turn. He can feel Max’s gaze on him as he announces it’s a $20 gift card to iTunes.

“This is a nice gift and all, but I  _ really _ would love some nail polish. Who has that now?” Louis looks over at Gemma and winks and she blows him a kiss.

Max nearly charges at him, dropping the pack of nail polish onto his lap, almost ripping the gift card out of his hands. “Yes!” he cheers. “Here, Uncle Lou. You might like the red polish.”

“I think you might be right.” He looks back up at Gemma and she mouths,  _ Thank you. _

They continue on rather quickly, until they get to Cam, that is. He stands in front of the Christmas tree for what feels like hours, going back and forth between each gift as if his life depends on it. Finally, he picks up Harry’s gift.

Harry smiles and puts his hand on Louis’ thigh, rubbing circles onto his leg. Louis relaxes into it, feeling warm, feeling safe.

“It feels like a movie. I  _ love _ movies. And this paper is silly. All of the snowmen have mustaches!”

Louis puts his hand over Harry’s to get him to stop his movements and he leans forward in his seat, the blood draining from his face.  _ Oh my God. _ “Wait, what did you say, Cam?”

“I said that I love movies!”

“No, after that.”

Harry looks at Louis. “Did he say there were mustaches on the wrapping paper…?”

Cam doesn’t answer, and Louis can’t respond, either. Instead, he watches, frozen, as Cam tears the paper off, looking rather confused when he sees a blank DVD cover instead of the colorful animation he was most likely expecting. “What movie is this? What does this piece of paper inside say?”

Gemma leans forward to read it and Louis thinks he might scream. “It says, ‘Just for you.’ Huh. What movie is this?”

Harry furrows his brows. “That’s weird. That’s definitely  _ not _ what I wrapped this morning. What is this?” He stands to examine the box and Louis jumps up, too.

“Um, Harry? Can I talk to you in the kitchen for a second?”

“Right now?”

“Yeah. Like. Immediately.”

Harry makes a face. “What’s the matter with you?”

“ _ Harry. _ ”

He holds up his hands as a truce. “Okay, okay. I’ll be right back, Cam. Sorry.”

“You have to tell me what the mystery movie is, Uncle Harry!”

“I will bud, just give me a minute.”

Louis honestly thinks he might die, right here on his birthday in front of Harry’s entire family. He grabs Harry by the wrist and drags him down the hall and into the kitchen, feeling like he could throw up at any minute.

“I have to tell you something.”

“Yeah, I can see that. What?”

Louis makes a pained expression and wrings his hands together. “Okay. Um. You grabbed the wrong gift off the counter before we left. I think I may have wrapped yours in the same paper.”

“Oh. That makes more sense. Well, that sucks. Now the  _ actual _ gift is back at our house.”

“No, Harry.” He takes a deep breath. “You don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand.”

“Cam just unwrapped a sex tape.”

Harry stares at him blankly. “He did  _ what? _ ”

“He just fucking unwrapped a sex tape.”

“Whose sex tape did he open?!”

“Ours.”

“ _ We _ have a sex tape?!”

Yes, vomiting is a real possibility. “It was supposed to be a surprise but now I’ve clearly gone and ruined the entire thing and--”

“We’ll get into how you managed to record us having sex without me knowing later.” He closes his eyes. “So you’re telling me that my five-year-old nephew is standing in the other room, holding a disc that contains a video of you and me having sex.”

“That is correct.”

“What the  _ fuck, _ Louis!”

Louis groans. “I know,  _ I know, _ this is like, the worst possible scenario ever. What the fuck do we do?!”

“Well, we  _ certainly _ can’t go in there and tell them because then they’re going to think we’re a couple of sick freaks, giving out our own personal sex tape as a Christmas present, and to my  _ nephew, _ nonetheless.”

He runs his fingers through his hair, thinking. “Okay, you’re number 19.”

“You’re seriously thinking about the game right now, are you  _ kidding _ me, Tomlinson?”

“No, shut up. You’re 19. Just, trade for the fucking thing back right at the end of the game and no one will ever have to know.”

Harry pauses, then nods. “Better than the alternative, I guess.”

“The alternative meaning you go in there and rip the present away from Cam and tell all the adults that it’s a porno.”

“No, the alternative meaning  _ you _ go in there and rip the present away from Cam and tell all the adults that it’s a porno. It’s  _ your _ fault.”

Louis groans. “I’ll never be allowed back in the house if that happens.”

“Exactly. Which is why I’m gonna have to trade for it back. Fuck.” He stares at Louis for a beat too long. “Seriously, why?!”

“Ugh.” He looks down at his feet. “The plan was to make a video for you of myself, y’know…” The hand gesture he makes is obscene and Harry snorts. “I thought it would be funny for you to have when you’re away on business, because you keep going on about how you miss me and stuff… But then you walked in when I was filming and decided to take matters into your own hands, so to speak.” He’s blushing, he knows he is. “I didn’t think I would ever have to explain it out loud, and at your  _ mom’s _ house, Christ, I’m so embarrassed.”

Harry’s biting down on his bottom lip, clearly trying not to laugh. “You’re so sweet, Lou. And funny. And that’s all kind of hot.” He kisses Louis’ cheek. “I’m still going to rip your limbs off, though.”

“Duly noted.”

They make their way back into the living room and Louis is trying his best to act nonchalant, and clearly failing based on the way Anne is staring at him with a strange look on her face. He can feel the sweat already starting to form on his forehead.

“Okay, who’s next? Harry asks, clapping his hands together.

Cam frowns. “You didn’t tell me what the movie is, Uncle Harry.”

“Uh.” He cracks his knuckles. “It’s a mystery movie.”

Louis punches Harry on the arm and Harry hits him back. “On what planet is that response something that would deter a child  _ away _ from something?!” Louis whispers.

Cam’s eyes go wide. “Ooh, a  _ mystery. _ That sounds exciting. Okay, I’m gonna keep it."

Louis punches him again but this time Harry lets him.  
  
  
  
The game continues for another hour, everyone taking their time with opening their gifts, laughing hysterically when Gemma’s husband unwraps a lime green bedazzled phone case and immediately shrieks out, “Keep!” And normally, Louis would be laughing, too, enjoying every minute of this, but he fucking  _ can’t, _ not while Cam has his damn fingers wrapped around the Mystery Movie.

He doesn’t even realize he’s jittery and twitching, feet tapping and hands shaking, until Harry holds him steady. “You have to fucking relax,” he warns. “Keep your hands still, Jesus. It’s like you’re over here churning butter.”

Louis huffs out a laugh. “Sorry.”

“Relax. We’re gonna get it back, alright?”

“Okay.” He frowns. “Did I say I was sorry yet?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I’m really sorry.”

Harry nods. “I’m the one who grabbed the wrong present, right? I should have noticed your stupid little mustaches all over the snowmen.”

“I was trying to make them  _ cuter, _ Harry, honestly. You picked the ugliest wrapping paper I’ve ever seen.”

“Maybe if you did some of the fucking holiday shopping you could have picked out your own damn wrapping paper and is this really the issue we should be arguing about right now?!”

Louis opens his mouth to retaliate, but Max cuts him off. “Uncle Harry, it’s your turn.”

“Already? Okay, hand me the last gift.” Max tosses it to him - a small, rectangle-shaped package with red and gold wrapping - and Harry tears off the paper slowly. “Oh, awesome, the new  _ Jurassic Park _ movie. Who managed to find this for under $20?”

Harry’s uncle from the across the room laughs. “Guilty.”

“Good work. But.” He looks over at Cam. “I think I’m going to have to trade my movie for yours.”

Louis breathes out a sigh of relief. “You sure, Harry?  _ Jurassic Park _ is terrific.”

Harry looks like he could strangle him. “What are you doing.”

“Trying to sell it to Cam. Trying to make it sound better than your damn Mystery Movie.”

“Wait,” Gemma says, putting her hands up. “I don’t want my five-year-old watching a gory movie about dinosaurs. No way. Too scary.”

“Definitely not as scary as what’s in his hands now,” Louis mumbles under his breath and Harry kicks him.

“Gem, it’s not that bad. I’ve seen it. He can, just, close his eyes through the bad parts.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? And are you seriously trying to steal back your own gift?”

Harry clears his throat. “I just really think you’re gonna want to switch with me, Gemma.”

“Why.”

“Mom, it’s okay,” Cam says before Harry has to come up with an answer. Louis wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. “I watched  _ Jurassic Park _ at Aidan’s house, anyway. I loved it. Here, Uncle Harry. We can trade.”

“Oh.” Gemma makes a face. “Fine, you can trade, but remind me to have a chat with Aidan’s mom.”

Louis allows himself to relax - finally - and claps his hands together. “Alright, everyone, that’s a wrap! Good work, and Merry Christmas.”

Harry pats him on the knee, relief written across his face, but before either of them can stand up, Max yells out, “Hey! I’m number one. I get to go again, right?”

Louis swallows. “Um, yeah, you do. You’re right. Go ahead, bud.”

Max stands up and puts his hands on his hips, pondering, and the smile on his face is downright  _ evil. _ “Sorry, Uncle Harry, but I want the mystery movie. Here, you can have my iTunes gift card.” He walks over and takes the movie out of Harry’s hands, placing the gift card beside him, and skips back to his seat, high-fiving Cam along the way.

Louis stares at Harry and intends on making fun of his dumbfounded expression, but he’s fairly certain that his face probably looks exactly the same.  
  


* * *

  
Just before midnight, Harry and Louis drag Gemma off into the corner of the kitchen.

“Okay, listen,” Harry starts. He takes a deep breath and shoves Louis forward. “Louis has something to tell you.”

Louis rolls his eyes, cheeks burning. “You’re a dick.” He closes his eyes briefly. “Okay. What are the chances that Max would notice if we took the Yankee swap gift back?”

She crosses her arms. “I’m thinking he’d notice. He’s seven. Why. What did you do.”

He puts his hands together like he’s praying, a silent, desperate plea. “We need the movie back.”

“Louis, what’s on the tape…”

He clears his throat. “There, uh, may be some inappropriate material involving your brother and myself in an, um, uncompromising position, and…” He makes a face. “It’s our sex tape.”

“Excuse me?!”

Louis wants to light himself on fire. “Harry grabbed the wrong movie on our way here and we didn’t realize it until Cam opened it and oh my God, Gemma he  _ cannot _ watch that.”

Gemma’s eyes dart back and forth between Louis’ face and Harry’s, expression unwavering. Louis thinks she actually might lunge forward and attack them both. An apology is on the tip of his tongue, but then Gemma bursts out laughing, slapping her hands on her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“That is the fucking funniest thing I have  _ ever _ heard! Oh my  _ God, _ I’m torn between being horrified and laughing for the next twenty years.” She laughs even harder, face red, and Louis looks around for alcohol to drown himself in.

“Okay, so you’re not mad,” Harry clarifies.

“No, but I  _ am _ going to tell everyone here. That can be your punishment.”

“ _ Gemma _ ,” Harry whines, as if that’ll stop her.

“You gave my kid a porno. This is how you’re going to make up for it. Adam!” she calls out to her husband. “Come here. Guess what Harry and Lou did!”

Louis turns and burrows his head into Harry’s chest. “Just go grab the movie,” he says, voice muffled. “The boys are asleep on the couch. They won’t know. And then we can escape.”

“Best thing you’ve said all night.”

They slip into the other room and slide the movie from out of Max’s grip. He barely stirs, breathing still even and heavy.

Harry grabs their coats from the front entryway, handing Louis his, and Louis grits out an embarrassed, “Merry Christmas, everyone,” hoping no one will say anything about the blush that’s permanently taken over his face.

“Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals!” Gemma calls out, still laughing, the rest of Harry’s family joining in, and Louis doesn’t feel bad even for a second when he flips her off on his way out the door.  
  


* * *

  
They don’t watch the movie when they get home, nor do they watch it the next day, or the day after that. In fact, Louis plans on burning it and then burying the remains so that he never has to be reminded of the most humiliating night of his life ever again.

Harry calls him dramatic. Louis says he’s just being cautious.

He hides it, deep in the back corner of the closet they never use in the guest bedroom, assuming it’s safe there for now until he figures out where he can buy a vault to store it in, which will eventually be dumped into the ocean.

He assumed wrong.

Harry calls him on day five of his business trip, the day after the new year. It’s about one in the morning Louis’ time, ten at night Harry’s time.

“Why are you calling me so late,” he grumbles out, eyes squinting at his phone’s illuminated screen in the darkness of his bedroom.

“Took me five days to miss your everything. So glad I had the movie to keep me company.”

Louis immediately sits up at that. “Wait. What movie.”

“Did you really think hiding it in the closet was a good spot? I found it in about three minutes. That’s where you hide presents, too.”

“I  _ told _ you, I never want to hear about that fucking movie again!”

“Baby, it was so fucking hot. I got off twice to it. You’re, like, you’re just perfect. I can’t even…” He groans, the same noise he always makes when he’s too overwhelmed by Louis.

Louis  _ hates _ that he’s getting hard. Fuck Harry. “It’s embarrassing now.”

“No,  _ no, _ it’s not. Christ, Louis, everything about it was so sexy.”

“You’re essentially complimenting yourself, here. You were in it, too, you know.”

“As if I took my eyes off of you at all. Couldn’t look away if I tried.”

Louis swallows and reaches down to palm himself. “Nine more days until you come home, right?”

“Nine more days. Can’t believe how much I miss you already. The damn movie did the opposite of what it was intended to do. Miss you even more now. And want my hands on you so bad I can’t even fucking think straight.”

“Jesus.” He grips himself firmer. “Hey, can I call you back? Like, five minutes.”

“No, I wanna get off.”

“You already did twice!”

“The best things come in threes, no pun intended.”

“Oh my God.” He hangs up and reaches for the lube on his nightstand, slicking himself up quickly, and starts working his hand over himself, growing harder by the second. He thinks about Harry, thinks about his reaction to the video, thinks about how good it’ll feel to have him fucking into him after two weeks without anything. It doesn’t take much longer for him to bring himself close to the edge - can’t hold back when he was so vulnerable from sleep to begin with - and when he feels the familiar heat pooling inside of him, he grabs his phone and turns the video on. He comes with Harry’s name on his lips, jerking himself until he’s too sensitive to keep going, and doesn’t think twice before he sends it to Harry.

Harry calls him less than five minutes later - Louis assumed as much - and he answers sweetly. “Hi, babe.”

“Okay, this is not a thing we’re going to be starting.”

“And why is that?”

“Because it’s driving me  _ crazy _ not being able to touch you!”

Louis laughs. “Nine more days.”

“Nine more days,” he repeats. “You really are so fucking gorgeous, Lou. Seriously. Got myself off for the third time. Send me as many videos as you want, whenever you want.”

He snorts. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Just, like, don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t send any to my sister or other family members accidentally.”

“Oh my God, fuck you, I’m hanging up.”

“Love you, baby.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You’re terrible. Like, genuinely awful.”

“I  _ said _ I love you.”

He smiles. “Yeah, I know, I heard you. Love you, too.” He ends the call and rolls over on his stomach. There  _ definitely _ won’t be anymore videos.

Not tonight, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> In the US, movies that are for ages 17+ are rated R, for anyone who didn't understand the title or was confused by it!


End file.
